


Set and Drift

by TelepathJeneral



Series: Demands of Empire [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 17:56:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18168314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelepathJeneral/pseuds/TelepathJeneral
Summary: A brief continuation/snapshot of events after "Demands of Empire".





	Set and Drift

The world is dark. Feathered with strokes of violet and lavender, the gentle tinges of darkest blue, only here and there interrupted with points of light. The stars are invisible overhead; noises blocked out by a state-of-the-art dampening device. Wilhuff marvels at the perfection of this place, and recognizes the deep, gnawing ache of disappointment as he acknowledges that this is a rare opportunity. His head rests against the dark fabric covering Vader’s broad chest, and the faintest sound of a heartbeat echoes beneath him.

They lay together on the floor of this balcony, having flaunted the demands of their positions and the guards at their doors. Like delinquent schoolchildren, they adore the opportunity even more for its illicit nature, and Wilhuff tries not to dig his fingers into Vader’s arms at the _anger_ prompted by the fact that they cannot do this more often.

Vader is sensitive to It anyway. He rests a hand on Wilhuff’s head, gently stroking the auburn hair peppered with specks of silver. Like the city around them, Vader finds Wilhuff a being of utmost elegance, but rarely finds the words to explain it. They have managed so far without very many compliments. In the pace of their lives, it must suffice.

“You must be eager to get back.” It is Wilhuff’s voice that comes first. Vader exhales carefully, growing more aware of the physical pressure caused by Wilhuff’s body against his.

“Eagerness is not the word.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten. You prefer action. Leave the speechmaking to me.” Though his tone is wry, Wilhuff turns to burrow into Vader, hiding his face from view. “But Palpatine. The project. The—”

“Palpatine does not want me at all times.” Vader nods, staring up at the sky. The Force still speaks to him, and it is odd that it can make him feel so _alone_. The Jedi do not exist. There is only Vader and Palpatine, twin burning points of dark fire that scream into the void.

And there is the other.

“He does not want me to interfere at times. The project is well in hand. My training is…inconsequential. And the child is growing.”

Wilhuff actually shivers, a display of weakness Vader has not learned to expect from the High Moff. Vader’s grip tightens, and Wilhuff nods his thanks, but he still must speak.

“You care for them.”

“As I care for you.”

“Yes, but I am a grown man with my own duties and a Rebellion to hunt. You care for this child, this…link to Amidala, even while she still lives.”

“The Emperor is satisfied with my role.”

“We all must be satisfied with our roles.”

“Wilhuff—”

“It is nothing we have not already discussed.” Sitting up suddenly, Wilhuff moves away from Vader to sit on the floor alone, staring out now at the cityscape before them. “I’m sorry.”

“Just because I am Palpatine’s apprentice and the father to a child does not mean I cannot also love you.”

Oh. _Oh_. There is such earnestness in Vader’s voice, the remnant of a boyhood lost long ago, and it makes Wilhuff pause. They do not bandy such words lightly. And they retain the power to shock him.

“The child is lightyears away and already they interfere.”

“I cannot pretend in this instance, Wilhuff. They are my blood. They are my responsibility. Together, we will shape the galaxy and rule it as it is meant to be ruled. Palpatine and myself. You, and the project. And my child, the admirals, the other moffs—all as part of it.”

Wilhuff nods again, acknowledging what his petulant emotions cannot accept. “They will not know me.”

“That isn’t true.” With deft acknowledgement of Wilhuff’s meaning, Vader sits up to stay beside him, a hand finding its way to Wilhuff’s shoulder. “You are the first High Moff. Palpatine will want them to know you.”

“As a face. A name. A harsh tone of command barking orders, someone without your…abilities.” Wilhuff does not speak directly of the Force. Vader wonders if it unsettles him. “I will be beneath them.”

“ _No_.” Now there is power in Vader’s tone, and Wilhuff sits up slightly to hear it. “If you _choose_ to present yourself as merely a commander, then so be it. But that lies in your power. I have seen you, Wilhuff, I have known you for several years. You have made the speeches. Played the politician. You have managed to make people love you, and I speak without bias here: you have earned their trust and used it well. A child we may now have, but they will not be a child forever. And with the training they receive, you may recognize features sooner than you realize.”

Wilhuff holds himself taut, still resisting, still hesitant to consider the future before them. If he had simply stayed, and not said anything…but too late for that now. “I suppose they are _your_ child.”

“Yes. And for my sake, do not foster your prejudice against them.”

“If they speak half as well as you do, there may be hope yet.” Wilhuff nods, reaching to grasp Vader’s knee. The warmth gained by such contact is limited, but it comforts him all the same. “Someday. When they are ready. I can prepare myself to meet them.”

“You will have time. Palpatine has many preparations to make.” Vader sighs softly, eyes still on the darkened skies above. “They will watch me with you. They will know what you mean to the Empire. And they will learn to respect you, just as I do.”

“Enough of this comfort, Vader. I believe you.” Wilhuff follows his own advice and falls silent, turning to hide again in Vader’s shoulder. Their conversation ends, and the night continues to darken, the planet turning slowly to reach a new day.

Their night will be quiet. Their guards, the ones closest to them, have learned the outer dimensions of their interaction, and will not bother them tonight. The few negotiations left to settle here will be accomplished quickly. And then they will be thrust back into the stars, to command and to lead, and such quiet moments will be lost again. But this is the pattern of their lives. The demands of the path they have chosen. Without those paths, they would have never come together.

If the path then demands such change, perhaps the realization of their goals is worth the temporary discomfort.


End file.
